


Only the Breakable Ones

by SanVulpecula



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel (Comics), Marvel (Movies), Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: AU, F/F, F/M, Past Peggy Carter/Angie Martinelli, Past Peggy Carter/Daniel Sousa - Freeform, Past Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2016-08-17
Packaged: 2018-06-07 07:41:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6795208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SanVulpecula/pseuds/SanVulpecula
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natalia Romanoff only knew the Winter Soldier as her teacher and mentor. Once he is taken away from her, Natalia is given an assignment that will test where her true loyalties lie: kill the Director of SHIELD.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nastavnik

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The City Sorrow Built](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5096507) by [LastAmericanMermaid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LastAmericanMermaid/pseuds/LastAmericanMermaid). 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Work title from Scarlet Witch induced memory in Avengers: Age of Ultron  
> "You'll break them."  
> "Only the breakable ones. You are made of marble. We’ll celebrate after the graduation ceremony."  
> "What if I fail?"  
> "You never fail."  
> ―Natalia Romanoff and Madame B

Sometimes the best place to start is the end.

For the Black Widow there was no end. There definitely at one time had been a beginning. 1937 to be more specific, and the beginning of the end started in 1945; 8 years old, kidnapped. Actually, could you truly be kidnapped if your parents were dead?

Trained, shaped, put on the edge of her life too many times to count. Graduation was a day of blessing. She was given a gift, but this gift was not wrapped in a pretty bow and paper like she had seen in those American movies. No, this one was in liquid form, injected into the skin. It burned _oh_ it burned for days. Her skin looked pale and normal on the outside but underneath the flames licked in her veins. The only condolence was through leaving that concrete barrack she had spent the past ten years of her life. She could not sleep nor eat as she was consumed by that syringe administered present. Any shred of innocence was now in the pile of ashes just beneath her skin.

Now the end.

She knew the Winter Soldier for longer than anyone still living could claim. Steve told her stories of him and Bucky growing up but he didn’t seem to understand that while his childhood friend and the Winter Soldier might share the same body, minus a limb, that what dwelled inside the assassin’s head was no longer the charming kid who used to defend pre-serumed Steve in the streets of Brooklyn. The Widow knew all this but would never say these heart wrenching truths to her idealistic partner. Instead she stayed silent, smiling at the humorous side-tangents and looked away when tears threatened to spill over Captain America’s chiseled jaw.

Bucky seemed like the finest friend a boy could have. The Winter Soldier seemed like the best teacher a young assassin could have.

“Natalia, chin up, and do not hold your breath. You must learn to regulate it. The right shot does not often come in the minutes you hold your breath. You might have the perfect shot right as you need to exhale and then you will miss.”

“Yes, Soldier.”

* * *

1945 might have been the beginning of the end but 1955 gave her hope. She might not have been fully liberated from the Red Room’s cold grasp but there was freedom found between missions. She would travel to Italy and France mostly to watch the sea; Russian mountains and forests never gave a glimpse of what laid beyond communist hold. The languages she learned as a child gave her hope of one day finding people she could actually have conversations with in the countries these words originated. She would pretend to be on holiday or visiting non-existing relatives when traversing the streets of Venice or Nice. But reality always hit her at night, lying in bed staring at the ceilings of her cheap hotel rooms. The embers might not be felt under her skin anymore but she sensed it slowly incinerating her heart.

Solace was found when they released the Winter Soldier from his icy prison. He never spoke of his past and Natalia began to think he didn’t have one. Unbeknown to her, she was correct; the Winter Soldier only had a future. New missions, new identities to take, new lives to end, the only constant piece of the puzzle of his frazzled mind was Natalia’s fierce companionship. She would quietly stab a man between the ribs as he came for the Winter Soldier from behind. The student and teacher would share a simple nod of thanks.

The Black Widow had been with more men than twice her age over the years but only the Soldier was genuinely voluntary. They were stuck in a German farmhouse overnight, waiting, when she sat on his lap. She pushed the raven, wavy strands of hair from his face and kissed his chapped lips once. No words were exchanged between them as they undressed themselves. They stood naked in front of one another. A thin, single bed with a handmade quilt neatly folded at the foot was pushed against the bedroom’s wall. Natalia simply raised her eyebrows and nodded her head in the direction of the bed; the Soldier understood. He laid on his back, cock standing at attention for the Widow’s nude figure. She mounted him and leaned down so her face was merely an inch from his. They did not kiss. The only thing exchanged was their own silence and the straining springs of the iron bed. After ten minutes Natalia squinted in confusion at the Soldier beneath her. No man had ever lasted this long with her riding on top. The Soldier looked seriously back at her and began rubbing his right hand over her breasts while he let his metal arm grip her bouncing ass. He rubbed and tweaked her hardened nipples. Her plump, blushing breasts bobbed up and down as she rode his cock for longer than she had anyone else. She began to feel a fire growing in her lower region, one she did not understand. It wasn’t an overpowering blaze, but almost like a buzzing itch within her clit that she needed to scratch.

She took her right hand off the bed where it rested near the Soldier’s head and placed it between her legs on her bundle of humming nerves. The Soldier smirked up at the Widow, almost knowingly. He continued his steady work of her breasts as she rubbed at herself. The Widow moaned loudly as she felt her face and chest flush with heat. The Soldier leaned his neck up and pulled a nipple into his mouth, sucking hard. The next second, the Widow saw red as she came for the first time in her life. The red of the Soldier’s starred shoulder, the red of her hourglass emblem, the red of Soviet Union’s banner, the red of the Room where she killed her once classmate, and lastly the red of her hair as it fell over her face as she collapsed on the Soldier’s firm chest. He worked her through the orgasm, thrusting his hips up slowly. After a minute of catching her breath she slowly leaned up from her mentor and kissed him deeply. Then she kissed him on the tip of his nose and rolled off, fitting her small body between his metal arm and the wall.

“Thank you,” she whispered to him.

The Winter Soldier’s metal arm rippled as he gripped her thigh reassuringly and nodded.

“Did…did you finish?” she whispered.

“Yes,” was all he said as he rubbed at the cruel pink scars around the top of his cybernetic arm.

Natalia turned to face the wall and backed her smooth ass against his thigh. In return, he rolled over and pulled her back to his chest. They fell asleep like that. It was the most restful sleep the Black Widow had ever experienced; there were no nightmares, not even a dream. Just a blackness she embraced with open arms.

After a week, their mission ended and the Winter Soldier left Natalia. He had no choice, they both knew this. He kissed her once and she never saw him again. That is not exactly the truth but she never saw him again as the man that could instantly recognized her heart shaped face. She knew he was reprogrammed each time he was frozen, though he always remembered her and their time training but Hydra had eyes everywhere, they probably knew about their relationship reaching this new level. They rid the Soldier of the redhead and her unique affinity toward him. The Black Widow continued on in her ignorance until 2014 when she saw him face to face for the first time since 1961. He looked right through her as if she was only a thin sheet of paper with a bullseye crudely drawn on it. It was in that moment all of her unexplained questions and thoughts were answered. But that’s another story for another time.

The Black Widow was left alone once again and time seemed to be her only friend. The irony in that made her laugh cruelly out loud as she sat facing the Mediterranean on the balcony of a random upscale hotel she had charmed her way into. Her long hair cascaded down and blew in the breeze; the Red Sea didn’t even part as beautifully as Russian’s locks as she played her one night with the Soldier over and over again in her head. The tumbler she was holding smashed suddenly in her hand; she hadn’t even noticed she was gripping it so hard. Chunks of glass stuck out of her palm as blood dripped down to the bushes far below. The Widow pulled the pieced out with a wince and watched as her hand quickly stopped bleeding and a scab grew over the wound. She knew it would take less than three days for the cuts to completely heal without leaving any trace of her scattered thoughts and memories that had caused her accidental injury in first place.

Four days later she received word of her new target. The director of some secret organization that was under the UN but was based in the United States, she didn’t care to know the details this time. She had a name and a place: Margaret Elizabeth Carter: New York City, New York. This mission would be Natalia’s first trip to the U.S. but this barely caused her to raise an eyebrow at the encrypted note. The only thought that passed through her mind was why she had to do this one alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nastavnik - Russian for 'mentor'


	2. Direktor

**April 18, 1962**

It had been 17 years and Peggy was most definitely over it but it didn’t hurt to remember the beautiful soul she had come to know and train. The blonde haired, blue eyed American man had left an unfillable hole in her heart, one in which she had no desire to even try and close. Just once a year she would let herself delve into the memories of the dramatic Brooklyn boy.

Little American flags stuck out of the ground around his memorial, they waved slightly in the wind. Peggy sat down, back against a tree which hung over the inscribed marble:

_Captain Steven Grant Rogers known to most as 'Captain America'_

_True American hero who will never be forgotten and who will always be in our hearts_

Howard always made her take April 18 off, no matter the day of the week. This midweek interruption was not unwanted, especially after Howard’s incessant complaining about wishing Peggy to join him in Utah for his new weapons testing. Director Carter had respectfully declined then more forcefully declined a second time with the threat of a thrown stapler at the smaller man’s head.

So there she was, telling the smooth headstone about the past year. She told the non-present body of Captain America about the unapproved nuclear testing in Nevada, how she had warned against it but even after 17 years, people still didn’t want to listen to a woman (even if she was the head of an esteemed agency). Peggy told him about the impending conflict in Vietnam that the U.S. was sure to become involved in, about the much loved President and his trade ban with Cuba, and how the USSR started nuclear tests as well (this fact probably concerning the British woman the most).

* * *

 

From several hundred feet away Natalia, dressed in all black, pretended to mourn Ava B. Connor who could have been her grandmother if anyone passing by had asked, but the Widow could have cared less about this stranger’s decaying body. Her eyes, covered with sunglasses, were focused on the slightly greying woman sitting under a tree by a large grave plot covered with American flags and fresh flowers, mostly dyed red and blue. The other woman’s shoulder-length chestnut hair curled around her sharp jaw bone and moving lips. Natalia would see she was either talking to herself or maybe to the person buried there.

Natalia knew it would be suspicious to stay at the graveyard for too long so soon left to walk around the city blocks nearby. After a couple hours, with evening approaching fast, she returned to the elaborate plot next to the towering tree where the woman before had been sitting. She examined the words engraved and a bit of recognition crossed her face, ‘Captain America’ she knew that name but couldn’t place the memory.

The next day, the red headed assassin went to the library and searched among years and years of newspaper clippings until she found it: “ _April 19, 1945: Captain America Goes Missing in Plane Crash_ ”.

There were scattered articles the years that followed World War 2 that spoke of the hero and the search for his plane and body but after about five years he wasn’t mentioned again. Instead Natalia began to search the clippings from during the War and saw the bond ads with Captain America’s face telling his fellow Americans to donate to the cause. She smirked at his cheesy outfit of winged ears and tight blue jumpsuit.

* * *

 

One evening the Widow casually watched the news and saw the one and only Howard Stark escorting a beautiful model to a movie premier in LA. Natalia’s contact had said Stark was closely affiliated with the covert organization in which her target was director. She had lost the tail of the woman that April day and knew she needed to start over; once Stark got back to the East coast, he would lead her straight to Margaret Carter.

A week or so later, the Widow tailed Howard to a very tall residential building in the heart of NYC. He came out with the broad shouldered woman close on his heels and both slid into a dark car and were driven away. Natalia then easily found her way into the building after seducing the doorman to the back alley and quickly snapped his neck. After dragging his body to the shadows of the nearby dumpster she made her way up to the top floor; she knew the rich and powerful Howard Stark would never settle for less for his right-hand woman.

She picked the front door lock of the penthouse apartment after stepping out of the emergency stairwell. She quietly closed the door behind her and stepped into the dark entryway; her eyes quickly adjusted and soundlessly started touring the spacious abode. The entry room made its way into a vast living room, seemingly untouched. Pillows and throws were placed perfectly on the recliner and couch. To the left of the living room was the kitchen, clean and neat almost unused with only one dirty mug in the sink. Natalia made her way to the right side of the house after barely glancing in the laundry room. There was a hallway that was lined with numerous bedrooms, all the doors were open, beds made and curtains closed; though the last door on the hall, most likely the master suite, was closed.

Natalia quietly turned the knob and opened onto the most lived-in room of the house. The king sized bed was half unmade; clothes were thrown over the obviously unused left side of the bed. A dark wood desk sat in a corner by another closed door that most likely lead to a closet or bathroom. The desk was stacked high with papers and folders; the desk chair was pulled away from the desk and had a navy colored coat draped over the back while a brilliant red Stetson Aviatrix sat on the seat. The Widow’s eyes quickly caught the shape of the aforementioned hat illuminated by bright moonlight coming from the open curtained window.

Natalia slowly made her way to the desk and scanned the papers covering it, most were in some kind of code that she didn’t have the time to try and decipher. The Widow dared not touch or move any of the papers in the slightest for she knew a woman who was the director of an intelligence agency of sorts would most definitely notice anything out of place. The only thing legible on the desk was a thin stack of papers creased long ways three times like it had previously been placed in an envelope. The words were written in small looping letters, all of it was in English. Natalia quickly realized it was a letter written to her target by most likely another woman from the look of the handwriting. She began reading, slowly, due to her rustiness to the English language.

_April 22, 1962_

_Dear English,_

_How are you? Still saving the world? What a silly question to ask, of course you are! Haha_

_How’s the weather there? Still cold and a chance of at least one more snowfall? LA is hot and sunny, we didn’t get a speck of snow all winter, bet you’re jealous._

The letter then jumped a paragraph; it kept the same handwriting but looked like the author had continued writing with a different pen.

_See that’s how I started the letter yesterday but I thought it was unbelieveable, to be honest. You and I haven’t spoken in years; I suppose it’s just as much my fault as yours. I guess I should say thank you first for giving my name to that director out here that works with Howard. I’m sure you know it ended up working out. Maybe you’ve seen some of the movies I’ve been in. If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be here now and you deserve to be acknowledged for that. I guess that was your own way of saying you were sorry for what you did. I’ve obviously had many years to think about what happened between us, almost too many years._

_I realize now what you did, you panicked when you left for LA. I know you felt guilty for leaving me but also didn’t want to be held back. I guess Daniel was there for you when I couldn’t be._

The letter ended with that sentence at the bottom of the page but there were several more paged beneath the first. Natalia’s curiosity was peaked and wished to know what happened between the actress and the Director so she did the rashest thing since kissing that suffering Hydra Soldier: she moved the front page over to continue reading the letter. 

_I have forgiven you Peggy, for everything. This is my confession to you. It has taken me this long to truly understand what you did and why you did it. I know you were trying to protect me and my innocence, trying to protect my relationship with my family. God forbid my parent’s only daughter moving across the country to be an actress and a queer one at that. Just know that the year we were together was one of the best in my life. I loved you English, you were everything to me. A part of me will always love you. I think of you often, wonder how you’re doing and if you’re still working at the phone company. Haha I hear through one of Howard’s associates that you and Daniel were divorced a few years ago, I’m sorry to hear that._

_Maybe one day if you’re out working in LA or just want a vacation, you’ll drop a line. I wish you all the best._

_Love,_

_Angie Martinelli_

_P.S. We have plenty of schnapps to get sick off of out here if you ever do decide to come!_

Natalia didn’t know how to feel after this letter. She understood the Director had once been in a relationship with another woman. This part didn’t terribly surprise the Widow; she had learned so many secrets over the years about people and their sexual interests. Paris especially was known for this kind of confidential lifestyle. The thing that was odd about the letter was the author herself, the name was so familiar. The Black Widow knew she had heard it before.

_What was Angie short for?_

_Angel?_

_Angelica?_

_Angela! Angela Martin._

Martinelli must have been her original last name before she went to Hollywood. Angela Martin was a quite famous actress, the Widow in fact had seen the beautiful Italian at the Cannes Film Festival just the year before when she was called into the area for a job.

So the older woman had a relationship with this actress before she was famous and it could almost be said she was the reason for the dirty blonde’s fame.

The Widow carefully placed the letter exactly where it had sat before she came into the Director’s home and backed away from the desk to go explore the rest of the penthouse apartment. The only thing left to see was a neatly organized closet on the opposite side of the room filled with professional suits, skirts, and dresses, a semi-messy bathroom adjacent to the wall where the desk sat, and a very neglected dining room off to the other side of the house. All Natalia had to do was wait till Margaret “Peggy” returned from her outing with Stark.

She went inside the first unoccupied bedroom and hid behind the open door. She waited and waited. The hours drug on as she eventually sat down to rest her legs. The Black Widow was used to waiting, she had waited nearly 3 days for one target to show but that time the Soldier provided her with company. Not that they spoke much, it was just his solid presence that was comforting.

* * *

 

The Widow was getting sleepy and had almost dozed off when she heard the light sound of keys jingling.

_She was home_

She quickly stood up and took the thin knife from her boot as the front door was opened and closed. Natalia heard footfall and someone placing, most likely a jacket, on the hook by the door as well as their keys in a bowl by the entrance. Peggy made her way down the hall toward her bedroom. The Widow silently peered through the crack between the open door and the door frame, seeing the taller brunette reach for the master suite door, open it and take half a step inside before pausing. The older woman quickly reached for her thigh where a gun was most likely holstered.

Natalia stepped around the door and stood a foot behind the frame, out of sight of Peggy’s potential stare. The Director brought the gun up in front of her with two hands and started clearing her bedroom. Natalia was impressed with the other woman’s instinct; she knew someone had been in her room. Natalia had no fear of guns and started to tiptoe down the hall towards Carter’s room as she heard her opening the closet door to check for intruders. Natalia watched the Director, still from the hallway, then go into the bathroom. The Widow dashed across the room to the corner where she could catch the other woman when she exited the bathroom. Natalia heard the shower curtain being drawn back quickly and then put back in place. She then heard Peggy look behind the door and under the cabinets; this almost made Natalia chuckle, _who but a child could fit in those cabinets?_   She then remembered she was once such a deadly child.

Then the moment came, the outheld gun was first through the doorway and Natalia kicked at it so quickly the Director had no time to process. The Widow quickly slide across the floor, picked up the gun by the desk and aimed it at the older woman’s head. The Director held up her arms knowing her position left her few options.

“What do you what?”

“Your life,” Natalia said in slightly accented English.

“You’re the Black Widow, are you not?”

Natalia took a split second to process the woman’s crisp, British accent especially since she was the head of an organization whose headquarters were in the U.S. (a very proud country with proud heritage). Natalia simply smirked at the brunette’s attempt at stalling as she put her index finger on the trigger.

This target was easier than she thought, she at least thought she would be presented with a little fight...

BAM! The gun went off suddenly, Peggy had lunged at Natalia’s stomach, ducking under the aim of the gun. The impact Peggy made with the Widow’s chest to tackle her against the desk made her index finger close down on the trigger, but Natalia recovered quickly from her surprise. She scolded herself for being too cocky just moments before and brought her elbows down sharply against the Director’s back. Peggy was focusing on maintaining her hold on the small Russian when Natalia dropped the gun and bit at Peggy’s ear while also pushing against her shoulders. The British woman’s grip loosened just enough when she felt the sharp pain at the side of her head giving the Widow space enough to assault her with her knees and then vault herself onto the desk. She grabbed the knife from her boot once again and sprung off the desk, papers flying to the ground. Peggy put her arms up in an ‘X’ shape to block the assassin’s air assault, but the Widow gripped her thighs around Peggy’s fists and neck, twisting her weight so they both met the hard floor with a thud. The brunette moaned in pain, she was 41 years old and she had never felt it more than in this moment.

The Director recovered as quickly as she could and twisted under the redhead’s weight. She might have been small but she was 5 foot 3 inches of pure muscle. The Russian’s knees were now on the older woman’s chest with the knife pressed to her throat. This was a position the Black Widow had been in many times before: blade on her victim’s neck, eyes meeting as they filled with flashes of their life and pure, untainted fear consuming their tiny pupils. But this time it was different, this time the eyes looking back at her were so calm, like she the woman beneath her was ready for death, like she didn’t have any memories to flash back to, like she almost didn’t care. This lack of fear began to unsettle the Widow, she recognized those eyes. They were severe, filled with a life of witnessing things too awful to repeat. They were the solemn eyes in her dreams. The Soldier had those eyes, unemotional. They told no stories, only held death with a firm fist at a distance just daring it to try. These eyes were a reflection, for she knew she would look the same way if death decided to knock on her door once again.

The Director looked up at the assassin now with confusion. The Widow hated herself for hesitating so she took the knife and cut the older woman’s shirt down the front. She then took the tip of the blade and cut that infamous hourglass shape between Peggy’s breasts. The cuts were small enough to not leave gross, pink scars matching the ones forever trying to heal on the Soldier’s shoulder. The blood pooled around the new wound as Natalia slipped the knife back in her boot. She put her finger in the Director’s fresh blood and smeared it up the older woman's chest to the bottom of her collarbone.

“You, Director, will remember me, because next time we meet I will not be so kind.”

Then the Russian sprung up and took off down the hallway and was out the front door before the English woman could fully stand up. She instead sat cross-legged on her bedroom floor in shock, surrounded by pieces of wrinkled paper than once sat on her desk. The cuts on her chest soaked through her shirt. She could handle the stinging pain of a knife wound but she could not handle the butchering to her pride. This young assassin had bested the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D and in one final _fuck you_ had left her alive. Peggy Carter would have rather been killed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stark's weapons testing in Utah was my own take on the "fireball (a brighter than usual meteoroid) exploded ten miles south of the town of Eureka, Utah at 8:15 pm local time" sighted on April 18, 1962. People at the time thought it was an UFO.
> 
> All of the historical events mentioned by Peggy at Cap's memorial did happen in 1962 before April 18.
> 
> Stetson Aviatrix is the type of hat Peggy wears in ABC's Agent Carter. 
> 
> The inspiration for Angie becoming a famous movie actress came from another fic I read awhile back: http://archiveofourown.org/works/5881387/chapters/13554811


	3. Bar

Over the next several months the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D would often catch a glimpse of red in her peripheral vision and would turn suddenly to see it was only a figment of her imagination. She would walk down the street at night and have the hair raise on the back of her neck; the feeling of being watched never left her, even alone lying in bed. She didn’t like knowing the young assassin could come up at any moment to end her life but she tried to shake the fear of the inevitable. No, she was not afraid of death just that she would not have the chance to fight it off or perhaps  the chance to welcome it.

* * *

 

**July 2, 1962**

It was hot in New York; the sidewalk could fry an egg or whatever that American expression was. Her contact was new; apparently Hydra was working with the KGB once again. This man, Carson, was on the fast track of promotions within S.H.I.E.L.D, little did they know of his true alliance. But this didn’t affect Natalia; she just had to tell a convincing enough lie to buy herself some more time. They wanted to know why Director Carter was still alive and Natalia told them soon. End of the month or she would be in the ground next to the Director. The Black Widow understood.

 

She had been following the older woman’s every move in New York. The Director apparently did not go on missions anymore and out of city meetings were limited during this time of year; Peggy had not left New York since their first encounter. Natalia knew her time as a shadow was over, but she had oddly grown quite fond of the Director’s stoic ways; her commanding presence no matter the setting. The strength of her walk never faltering, the earnest way in which she did everything peaked Natalia’s curiosity more than she cared to admit.

 

She decided to speak to the older woman before she ended her seemingly fruitful life. The opportunity arose when Peggy went into a bar just a block from her residence. She sat at the bar alone, focused solely on the amber colored drink sitting before her. Natalia waited half an hour before entering, making sure the other woman wasn’t meeting anyone. The Widow strolled down the steps and into the bar taking the seat to the left of the Director.

The brunette didn’t even glance in her direction as she simply stated, “I’ve been waiting for you Widow.”

“And I’ve been watching you Director.”

The Russian ordered a gin and tonic then turned to face the older woman.

“Why have you not just killed me? I’m sure you’ve had more than one opportunity since the last time we spoke.”

The bartender placed down her drink before the redhead answered, “I enjoy stalking my prey. I enjoy watching their paranoia slowly take over their every thought.”

Peggy snorted and downed her drink then motioned for the bartender for another,

“The only reason I’m still alive is because I’m paranoid. You really think you’re the first or even the first of your kind to try and kill me?”

Natalia’s face remained expressionless as she racked her brain and could not come up with another Black Widow assigned to the Director before herself.

Halfway through her third drink in less than an hour Peggy’s words came out in a rush, “Dottie Underwood, at least that’s how I knew her. She worked for Leviathan when it existed in its fullest capacity. She was trained in a school very similar to yours; she was good, very good. Almost unmatched physically and sharp as a whip, almost killed me three times. She was so useful we ended up recruiting her for a mission once, broke her out of prison myself. But she disappeared before we could put her back.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Well if you would rather sit in silence might as well kill me now so you can sit in a room with my corpse,” the Director deadpanned back.

Natalia smirked at the sarcastic woman next to her. She did come into the bar with the intention of talking to the English woman but now that she was here she wasn’t exactly sure what to discuss.

“How old are you?” Peggy continued on when the Russian didn’t comment back.

“Older than I look. But you, you look maybe late thirties?”

“Don’t play game with me; you know I’m over 40! Fake flattery and pretense are futile…especially tonight,” the Director finished off her drink, motioning again for another.

“Then tell me, Margaret, of your actress.”

Peggy turned her head to the Russian sharply, raising her voice to a growl, “Don’t mock me either, child!”

“I am not mocking you and I am not a child,” the redhead kept her voice to a neutral tone, “I saw the letter she wrote you, I wish to know the story.”

“You think after a couple of drinks I will tell a stranger my deepest secrets just because she holds my life in her hands?”

“I’m giving you a chance to let go of all your pain before I give you anymore.”

The Director stayed silent as she rubbed the condensation off the glass of her newly made drink, “I will tell you the story, my angel of death, only if you tell me your name, the real one.”

The Widow hesitated. Few people knew her real name, it was the one thing she could choose to keep or give out, she had little else but this woman beside her would soon be dead and thus the number of people who knew wouldn’t stay changed.

“Natalia”

“Natalia,” Peggy repeated back in a whisper, looking sideways at the pale redhead beside her.

 

“I used to work for the SSR, S.H.I.E.L.D before it evolved. I was an agent held back by her gender and former romantic inclinations. My fellow agents thought I was only there because I was Captain America’s ‘old flame’. I often ate my meals alone at a local automat and was befriended by a waitress who worked there. I tried very hard to keep my distance; I was never good at making friends or keeping them. Long story short, when Dottie tried to kill me the first time, the waitress believed in me and never once hated me for lying to her about my job or basically my whole life. Once my associate’s and I’s names were cleared she came to live with me. Our romance of sorts started there. Little less than a year later I was called to Los Angeles for work; I had to leave her behind in New York. Once I completed the mission I ended up staying longer than originally intended. I broke off the relationship through a letter and never saw her again. I started a relationship with a fellow coworker not long after, he and I ended up getting married, but we divorced a few years back.”

 

Natalia mulled over the information and multiple questions came to mind but she started with the one she wanted to know most, the one that would help her understand the thought process of the older woman.

“Did you not love this girl?”

The Director breathed in deeply and squinted down at her drink, “I loved her more than imaginable.”

“Then why?”

The English woman paused several seconds then answered, “My life was…too dangerous to bring her into and it was the 40s; we couldn’t be open about our relationship. She came from a strict catholic home and was very close to her family. I couldn’t let her throw that away for me. There were so many reasons; I guess it was just easier to break her heart then drag her along on my unpredictable ride of a life.”

“You sound like you made your decision so you didn’t have to feel guilty.”

“I had already lost people I loved, I couldn’t bear to lose anyone else,” the Director shot back.

“But you were married…were you not afraid you would lose him too?”

“Daniel..ugh, he was a trained agent. He knew what my life was like; he understood my passion for the job and knew the danger before we ever married.”

“Then why did you not explain this danger to the girl?”

The Director turned her whole body to the younger woman, “Why are you questioning me so?! Why does any of this matter? Do you do this to all of your targets, make them think about their pasts, make them feel like there is no hope then confirm their thoughts by killing them?”

The Widow leaned back from the brunette’s attacking words. This fierce woman had hit her point, she knew, but she also sensed this woman need to get the things out she had been bottling inside for the over 15 years.

“I want you to have the freedom you fight for everyone else to have,” The Black Widow said still never raising her voice.

“I’ve always had freedom, Natalia. That is how I made these tough decisions. I realized that no matter who I was with, who I cared about or what I did for them, they could always be taken away from me and used against me. I think it better to spend my life protecting the world from people like you instead of using all my time just protecting the select few people who loved me.”

“Your rationale is eating you away. You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself rather than me of the benefits to your reasonings.”

“You know nothing,” the older woman spit back, “You know nothing of the loss or the pain I have suffered. In every relationship you give your trust and piece of your heart to the other person to hold. They get to keep it and it stays with them even after they leave. These pieces never return to you and I will not apologize for not wishing to die with an empty cavity in my chest.”

Natalia’s tumbler shattered, but this time she knew how hard she had been gripping it; she had been glaring at it as the Director spoke, waiting for the shards to penetrate her palm.

 

The brunette’s eyes widened with surprise then she raised her hand to ask the oblivious bartender for a towel. She then reached over to help the redhead but instantly the Russian pulled her hand out of the other woman’s reach. The Widow picked the glass out and turned her palm up to watch the wound cease its bleeding and scab over. Natalia looked up at the Director’s raised eyebrows and smirked at the other woman’s shock.

“Graduation present,” the Widow stated as the bartender returned with a towel to wipe the shards of glass into the trash bin.

“This is our gift once our training is complete. Your Captain knew this gift well.”

The Director stayed in stunned silence. She had watched organizations all over the world try to replicate the super solider serum; she had even caught Howard drawing formulas over chalkboards just recently. But Peggy Carter had never actually seen it done and the thought truly made her stomach drop; whose were the hands that held this dangerous formula?

“I see you are deep in thought, no need to worry. It is not perfected…yet. I just heal faster than most and age in half the time, but I do not have super strength.”

These words brought short lived relief to the older woman’s face. The Russians or Germans or whoever had this serum would eventually perfect the formula then the world would be in utter chaos; she needed intel on this soon. Then Peggy suddenly remembered where she was and who she was with, she would not be alive tomorrow morning and no one would ever know of this secret that was revealed to her. The Director then made a decisive decision that next moment and stood up from her place with a slight drunken waver.

“I must go, goodnight Widow.”

The English woman placed money on the bar and walked out the door.

Waiting only a minute, the Russian also placed her own money next to the other woman’s and followed her out onto the dimly lit street, but when she had reached the sidewalk there was no sign of the brunette anywhere.

_She must have run home._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The man briefly referenced as Natalia's new contact is Mitchell Carson as seen in Ant-Man (2015).


	4. Svyazannyy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well unsurprisingly it was announced yesterday that ABC's Agent Carter will not return for a 3rd season. Guess we shall never know who Peggy ended up marrying... *cough* not Sousa *cough*
> 
> But in more positive news Hayley Atwell was cast in a new ABC drama to be airing in the Fall! We will get to see bae soon enough :D

**22:17**

The Russian made her way to the residential building where Peggy dwelled and snuck her way into the emergency stairwell by dodging the new doorman and front desk attendant. After climbing the several flights of stairs, a little out of breath the Widow reached the Director’s front door. She slowly turned the handle and felt that it was unlocked. She instantly felt a wave of uneasiness wash over her; while the older woman knew her fate, Natalia didn’t exactly think the other woman would refrain from simple precautionary measures (such as locking the front door). The Widow drew her knife from her boot and quickly pushed the door open as she flattened herself on the outside wall in case there was someone waiting for her entry on the inside. After several long seconds of silence she peered around the door frame and only saw the short entryway that led into the dim, empty living room.

The Widow stepped into the apartment not closing the door behind her for the chance of a needed quick escape. She placed down each step with care, not wishing to alert anyone waiting for her in the shadows. The apartment remained quiet as she slinked through the living room and peered down the hallway that held the bedrooms. There was a thin strip of light coming from the barely cracked door of the first bedroom. She couldn’t see past the first two bedroom doors so she crouched down to make her way to the master suite at the far end of the hall. Just as her bent form passed into the light from the door she heard a click and then a sharp pain in her shoulder. She looked down and observed a small dart sticking out of her skin to the left of her collar bone. She instinctively reached up to pull the foreign object from her now numb arm then stood up.  The Widow’s brain began to slowly process the threat located down the hall and wavered as she tried to step forward; the fuzziness didn’t even allow her to realize she was falling until it was too late. She then collapsed on the hallway floor, brain going empty.

* * *

 The Director had rushed home to grab her tranquilizer gun from the top drawer of her desk. Next she flipped on the light in one of the bedrooms, keeping the door cracked then knelt in the darkest corner of the hall just next to her own bedroom door to wait. She didn’t have to anticipate her guest long before she heard the front door open with a _bang_. Everything went as planned; all she had to do now was tie the Russian up and call HQ to bring a car so she could take her red headed assassin into custody.

* * *

  **23:22**

“You already called your people?” Natalia asked groggily.

“They will be here any moment.”

“Call them off. I do not wish to be hooked up and interrogated in a concrete prison.”

“I don’t particularly care what you want Widow.”

“You know where I come from; you know what I can handle. You take me there and I will never speak.”

The English woman glared down at the Russian currently bound to one of her kitchen chairs placed in the living room.

“Call them and tell them not to come. I will only speak with you. Here.”

The Director exhaled loudly, “S.H.I.E.L.D does not negotiate with Russian spies.”

“You know of the man who they call Winter Soldier?”

The Director quickly whipped around from where she was watching out the window for the S.H.I.E.L.D car, “What do you know of him?!”

“Enough. You want answers? Then call your men.”

The Director hesitated as the Russian watched the wheels turning quickly in her head. She then reached for the phone and dialed a rather long number.

“Agent Simmons, go back to the office.”

_There was a pause._

“Yes I know what I said, I have it under control. Stay near the phone but I will handle this myself.”

_There was another pause._

“You will do as I say and that is final! Goodnight Agent.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey did you notice the quote there at the end? heh
> 
> 'Svyazannyy' - Russian for tied or bound


	5. Smet'

“Will you untie me?”

“No, I did what you asked. Now you tell me about the Winter Soldier and you will stay tied. You honestly think I trust you in the least?”

The Widow rolled her eyes and pulled against her restraints; the knots were complex and tight but nothing she couldn’t get out of with time. She just needed to stall.

“Okay then Margaret. What do you wish to know?”

“Who do you work for?”

“KGB.”

“And the Soldier?”

“Hydra.”

“Fuck, I knew they weren’t totally irradiated.”

“Cut off one head, two more” she was cut off,

“Shut up, don’t you think I know that fucking line by now? I’ve been at this for as long, if not longer than you. However old you actually are. Anyway, tell me how a KGB agent knows about Hydra’s secret solider.”

 

Peggy began to pace around the living room as she processed this new information.

 

“Russia and Germany may have been on opposite sides during the war but when there are resources and funds to be exchanged, past differences of opinion can be…well can be ignored.”

The Russian had freed one wrist so far and started on other as the older woman lit a cigarette and continued pacing.

“The Winter Solider was my mentor, teacher,” Natalia elaborated, “Taught me many things. We were partners of sorts through several years.”

“Is he of German descent?”

“I knew nothing of that. The Soldier does not have a past, Director, which you must understand. He finishes mission then is wiped clean. I do believe you call it a slate.”

Natalia was now free of her bonds but kept her hands behind her back for the right moment, trying to deduct the right time for her freedom to be known.

“Wiped clean?” Peggy placed her cigarette butt in the ash tray on the coffee table and straightened back up to looked at the Widow.

“Yes, his keepers, they delete the memories, all of them.”

The Director remained silent and walked to the window. She gazed out on the dark streets, considering the redhead’s words. She wasn’t sure what direction to go with this new knowledge: _Form a task team? But where would they go, where would they even start?_

 

The Russian sprung forward off her seat and rushed at the Director, who had just enough time to process the coming onslaught to face her attacker. The Widow leapt onto the Director’s body and attempted to pull her quickly to the ground. Peggy refused to be taken down that easily and kicked at the younger woman’s legs, barely connecting with flesh. The redhead wrapped her arms around the director’s neck and began squeezing.

“Na..Natalia,” the Director barely got out as her breath was taken away from her, though the Widow didn’t let up as she squeezed for almost a minute until the brunette went limp against her chest.

This would buy the Widow maybe less than a minute of time before the English woman gained consciousness.

She quickly grabbed the ropes from the floor beneath the seat she has previously been restrained on, and then went to quickly bind the Director where she lay on the floor behind the couch. She barely had finished when she saw the dark eyelashes flutter open and heard a moan from the woman lying on the floor hogtied.

“Why are you still here?” The Director croaked out.

The Widow stayed silent and placed her back to the couch, facing the other woman. The Director wiggled against her bonds, “Could you at least sit me up?”

Natalia stood up and slid Peggy to the wall. She pulled her up so her back was against it then went to her place back on the floor against the couch.

“I don’t often under estimate people,” the Director said, resting her head against the wall behind her, “I now will never do it again, especially with you.”

“If it makes you feel any better Margaret, that was the longest it has ever taken me to get out of ropes since I was a child.”

The Director scoffed, “Thanks.”

“You hate me Margaret?”

“I will if you keep calling me that, it’s reserved for my mother.”

“Answer my question Director.”

“No, I do not hate you, I don’t even know you. I hate the things you do though; I hate the people you report to. I pity you more.”

“Do NOT pity me!” the Widow quickly spit back, “I tell you again, I am not a child! I do have the ability to make my own decisions, even if you don’t approve of them.”

The Director stared up at the ceiling as she mulled over the redhead’s words, “Is that why you’re still here? To prove to me that you can make your own decisions?”

“Mmm,” The Russian made a non-answering sound.

“Then tell me Widow, what decisions do you make on your own?” The Director was quite irritated with the entire situation. She had played herself right into her enemy’s hands so now all she could do was push the Widow, poke and prod at her choices; if Peggy Carter was going to die tonight then she would at least die with her pride in tack, okay maybe more or less in tack.

“Do not forget that I chose to spare your life when first we met.”

 “I cannot forget, there is a mark on my chest I must see every day representing your so called act of mercy.”

“You should be grateful.”

“Grateful for you prolonging my life a couple more months? You let me fall into a state of extreme paranoia and took pleasure from it!”

“I did nothing. You made the decision to continue your life like we had never met. You did not probably even tell Stark of our meeting. Pride cometh before the fall Director.”

_Damn right_ thought Peggy, clenching her jaw as she glared at the younger woman only a few feet from her.

“Will you at least do me the favor of killing me this time? Or do you have another picture you wish to mutilate my body with?” She snapped back sarcastically.

The Widow’s face softened and she stared at the Director’s face. She had noticed the round brown eyes, sharp jaw line, perfectly waved hair and plump lips but it wasn’t until she joined all the pieces together that she saw Peggy Carter in the whole. She could easily be described as a beautiful woman: with tiny crow’s feet lining the sides of her eyes, grey streaks coming from her temples into her still mostly chestnut hair, and the perfectly plucking eyebrows, now furrowed in severity.

“Are you lonely?” The Widow quietly said.

The Director’s face flashed in confusion into a split second of thoughtful sadness before returning to an emotionless mask.

“I choose to be alone. I live alone but I do not work alone. I have hundreds of people on my team, fighting for the same thing. In a mission so great one cannot be alone.”

“But one can feel alone.”

Natalia noticed the Director clinch her jaw again then decided to make a move towards Peggy’s bound body. She crawled over to sit only a foot from where the older woman sat. The Director pulled her legs closer to herself to maintain distance from the Widow. But Natalia was done playing games; she knew what she wanted so she reached out to place her hand on the Director’s ankle.

“Get your hand off of me!” Peggy said aggressively as she twisted away from the Russian.

“Do you prefer women or men?”

“Fuck you!” the Director kicked her bound feet at the Widow’s hand, but this only caused the redhead to grasp the Director’s ankle harder.

“Answer my question.”

“No.”

Now it was Natalia’s turn to glare at the brunette, “I have been with a woman before,” she said to build a bridge between her and the older woman.

“Congratulations.”

“And men,” the Widow said completely ignoring the Director’s acrimonious statement.

“Then why don’t you answer your own question?” Peggy rolled her ankle again only to have Natalia tighten her grip.

“Because I want to hear your answer.”

“You answer it first.”

The Russian rolled her eyes then decided to humor the Director, “I’ve been with many men. The woman, it was different. I didn’t hate it as much as with the men but she was still very…how do you say? Selfish?”

“Was she a target?”

Natalia shrugged, “Ambassador’s wife. Their relationship was more for business I gathered. He preferred the company of other men, so I had to get in another way.”

 

The Director nodded in understanding, more comprehension than the Widow could see. Peggy knew of the death of U.S. Ambassador Zellerbach and his wife. It was covered up as early retirement but Peggy knew the truth, both found dead in their home in Italy. Him with a small gunshot wound to the head where he sat in his office and the wife with a sliced throat, half naked on blood soaked sheets. Now the Director truly knew who was responsible.

 

“Your turn _Margaret_ ” the Widow put a little too much emphasis on the name and smirked at the brunette’s tight lips.

“I don’t have a preference between the sexes. I care more about the person,” the older woman stated this matter-of-factly as if she was simply discussing dinner plans.

“Do you find sex with men or woman to be more appealing?”

“Just depends on the person. As you said, men and woman both can be selfish.”

Natalia nodded.

“Did you and the Solider…?” The Director moved the ankle the Widow still gripped to get her to look into her eyes in order to catch her drift. Natalia looked up and stared intently into the kind, curious face of Peggy and felt a wave of nostalgia wash over her. She simply nodded and turned her head away as she felt a lump form in her throat.”  

“And he doesn’t remember you now?” the brunette asked almost in a whisper.

Natalia cleared her throat and looked back at the English woman. In the spur of the moment she slowly crawled forward onto the Director’s lap and knelled half a foot from her face as she stared into the older woman’s eyes. Peggy’s pupils grew in size as the Russian inched closer.

“Natalia,” Peggy warned.

The Widow sat down on the Director’s lap and wrapped her legs around the slightly greying brunette’s waist. Peggy diverted her attention from the redhead’s smooth, barely aged face. She focused, instead, on a spot on the wall on the opposite side of the room as Natalia kept her face only a few inches back.

“I can see your pulse in your neck,” Natalia commented.

Peggy didn’t say a word, just clenched her jaw once, swallowed and continued staring at the opposite wall.

Natalia leaned slightly forward and whispered, “Your heart is beating very fast Director…are you turned on?” the assassin continued.

The Director instantly swallowed after those words and pulled suddenly at her arms bound behind her back, slightly pushing the Widow off balance on her lap.

“Natalia,” the Director said seriously finally looking into the emerald eyes of the Russian, “Untie me, or do what you came here to do. You’ve teased me with death long enough. I will not let you live up to your name, seducing me to just end my life as I sleep, I have accomplished too much to die in such a disrespectful way.”

The redhead stared intently back at the older woman then slightly nodded. She got off the Director’s lap and pulled her body away from the wall. She took a hidden knife from her bra to cut the ropes from the brunette’s ankles and wrists. The Widow backed away as Peggy massaged where the bonds had chaffed her skin. The Director then stood up and motioned for Natalia to copy her, “I will die on my feet.”

The Widow bounced the knife in her palm as she watched the Director stand, fists clenched at her sides.

Fast as lightening the Widow vaulted herself at the older woman and pushed her to the wall she had previously been sitting against. The Russian pressed the knife to the other woman’s neck, drawing a small drop of blood.

“Do it.” The Director dared.

The Widow hesitated, looking into the Director’s determined eyes. She watched them flicker to the redhead’s lips then back to her eyes. Natalia wasn’t sure if she had imagined it but slightly back the knife away in confusion.

Peggy moved her neck and head forward to have the blade, once again, press against her skin but stared at the younger woman’s lips blatantly, this time the Widow knew she wasn’t imagining anything; her own heart began to race and her grip on the knife weakened.

“Do it,” the Director said again in a harsh whisper, but Natalia wasn’t sure if Peggy meant the same thing as the first time. She dropped the blade suddenly and they both heard it clatter to the floor beneath them as they continued their staring match, chests pressed against each other’s.

The Director squinted her eyes in frustration and grunted, seemingly annoyed.

“Do it Director,” Natalia whispered, daring the brunette with her own statement.

The distance between them was then closed by the English woman as she smashed her lips to the younger woman’s a few inches beneath her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Smet'" - Russian for 'dare'
> 
> "James David Zellerbach (January 17, 1892 - August 3, 1963) was an American businessman and ambassador.  
> Zellerbach was sworn in as United States Ambassador to Italy in 1957. He held the post until 1960. He was a member on the board of Wells Fargo Bank Council on Foreign Relations."  
> I just made his death a little more tragic.


	6. Vtoroy Shans

Natalia’s lips moved against Peggy’s as she ground her hips against the woman pinned between her and the wall. Peggy let the redhead slip her tongue roughly into her mouth and returned it with a hard suck. Natalia’s breath caught suddenly and moved her hands to rub up and down the Director’s curved hips. Peggy then pulled the Widow’s bottom lip into her mouth with another suck and flick of her tongue; Natalia’s hands paused in distraction at the older woman’s tongue coming into contact with her own.

They went back and forth until Peggy spun their bodies around abruptly and pushed the Widow’s back against the wall. There was a slight fight for power but Natalia wasn’t so sure who she wanted to win. The Director gripped the back of the redhead’s thighs, right below her thick ass and pulled in an upward motion; the Widow understood and jumped up with the motion and wrapped her strong legs around the older woman’s waist. Peggy walked them, mouths still meshed together, to the couch and sat the younger woman down on the middle sofa cushion while she got down on her knees in front of her.

Natalia impatiently unbuttoned her own pants and pushed them over her hips to her knees; Peggy smirked and pulled them down the rest of the way to the floor. She pushed apart the now bare legs in front of her and was greeted with the trimmed light, red hair which surrounded the Widow’s core; she stopped breathing at the sight.

“You aren’t wearing any knickers,” whispered the brunette looking up at the coy face above her.

“Wow you’re very observant for an intelligence director.”

Peggy squinted at Natalia in annoyance and gripped the other woman’s ass tightly once she was situated between the now open legs. Natalia leaned her head down to Peggy’s ear and breathed slightly into it, “Are you going to fuck me Director?”

Peggy groaned at the air passing over her ear and pulled away sharply. She gripped Natalia’s ass slightly harder and pulled her to the edge of the couch cushion. Peggy started kissing the Widow’s pale neck, pushing her tongue out over the other woman’s jaw bone and working her way to underside of her chin. Natalia bent her head and captured the Director’s lips while her hands intertwined themselves into the thick chestnut tresses. Peggy’s right hand slide way from the Russians ass and rubbed down the outside of her thigh slowly, this made the redhead twitch slightly. Once Peggy made it to the other woman’s knee, she made her way back up the thigh but this time on the inside. This made Natalia’s leg muscles twitch even more and she bit down on the Director’s bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. Peggy hissed in pain and gripped the inside of the thigh tightly in retaliation, making the Widow release the older woman’s lip.

“Do you want me to stop?” Peggy asked, staring intently into jade eyes.

She was answered with the Russian moving slightly forward on the couch and moving her thigh inwards. Peggy continued staring into those severe eyes as she moved her hand slowly up Natalia’s inner thigh once again. Natalia maintained eye contact but her breath came out a little heavier when the Director’s finger tips got to the apex of her thigh and outer lips. Peggy teased her fingers over the outside, tracing up and down. Natalia jutted her hips forward, daring the older woman to go further in and explore the thoroughly soaked folds.

“Did you want something?” Peggy chuckled with a thin smirk.

The Russian rolled her eyes, took her left hand out of the British woman’s hair and placed it on the hand teasing her. She held the back of Peggy’s hand firming and pushed so the fingers were immersed in her now dripping vagina. The eye contact between them never stopped and Natalia could only see the blow pupils of the Director, black as night and glazed with arousal. Peggy’s self-control was now gone and she plunged her middle finger deep into the ridged pussy of the younger woman; this cause Natalia to jerk in surprise and let out a soft gasp. The Director worked her finger in and out slowly for a few more seconds before the Russian whispered, “More.”

Peggy obliged and introduced her index finger, alongside her middle to continue fucking the redhead who had now replaced her hand into the older woman’s hair and was pulling her head to hers. Theirs lips were slightly pressed together but Natalia couldn’t focus enough to kiss Peggy fully, just managed to keep their lips together as she thrusted her hips into Peggy’s movements inside of her.

After several minutes, Peggy curled her fingers upwards into the now fully swollen rough spot a few inches inside of Natalia. Once she did this, the Widow moaned out loudly; Peggy knew this satisfying sound well and continued to hit the spot harder and faster. Natalia, lost in pleasure, kissed the Director sloppily and continued to thrust into her movements.

Peggy took her left hand from Natalia’s ass and put it on the side of the Widow’s face, pulling her forward for a forceful kiss. She held her lips tightly to the redhead and put her thumb on Natalia’s clit. She felt Natalia’s breath grow short as she moaned into her mouth; the Russian’s legs were now wrapped around Peggy’s waist. The Director rubbed over the engorged bundle of nerves several more times as she felt Natalia's walls tighten around her fingers.

She knew how strong the assassin was and didn’t want to go into this unprepared, she took her hand away from the younger woman’s face and moved to wrap it around her torso instead, holding her close. The next second the Russian gripped Peggy’s hair with so much force it made the brunette groan out in pain with the combination of heels now digging into her lower back. Natalia tightened around the Director’s fingers once more as she started to come. She moaned so loud it made Peggy smile like a Cheshire cat as she worked her through the orgasm. The legs around her finally loosened and fell to the couch and the hands in her hair were pulled away. The Director still held the Russian close to her chest until the assassin try to pull back; she then let Natalia go and removed her fingers. She saw flushed, tear streaked cheeks on the woman's face above her.

Slightly panicked Peggy asked, “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” She had practically forgotten that just thirty minutes ago she was preparing for her life to be ended by this other woman and now she cared if she hurt her…the whole thing was ridiculous in Natalia’s mind and she wiped at her face.

Natalia actually hadn’t even known she had cried until the older woman pointed it out. Now she was slightly embarrassed and stood up abruptly which threw Peggy off balance to try to catch herself on the ground. Natalia pulled up her pants and quickly buttoned them; she stepped around Peggy’s kneeling form as she straightened her shirt. Then the redhead made her way through the living room to the entry way.

“Where’re you going?” asked Peggy, standing up to watch the Widow retreating.

“Next time I will not be so kind,” Natalia replied taking one last solemn look at the older woman and headed out the door with a soft click.

Peggy stood stock still, trying to process what has just happened; she didn’t know whether to run after her or stay there or call in the assassin’s escape to S.H.I.E.L.D. She stayed frozen in analysis, but after several minutes she sat down in the spot the Russian had been just before. She placed her elbows on her knees and held her face in her hands and groaned out in frustration; she didn’t know what to do. She had been incredibly rash and unprofessional beyond forgiveness, especially as the _bloody_ Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.

She moved to the phone and called into Agent Simmons, who answered on the second ring:

_“You alright boss?”_

“Yes I am fine. Seems as if the Black Widow escaped.”

_“Escaped?! How?”_

“I’ll explain in the morning. I don’t need you on-call anymore. Go home Simmons.”

 _“Alright,”_ he replied apprehensively, _“Goodnight Director.”_

“Goodnight Agent.” She hung up the phone and turned to the coffee table, picked up the ashtray and threw it across the room with as much force as she could muster and it shattered on impact with the wall.

_Bloody fucking hell._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vtoroy Shans - Russian for 'second chance'


	7. Gordost'

It was well past midnight, into the early hours of the morning when Natalia stepped outside of Peggy’s apartment building. To say she raced down the stairs would have been an understatement. She had vaulted down the floors to escape the walls she felt closing in around her.

She didn’t regret what she did, just regretted what she didn’t do…couldn’t do. Her mission, so simple in the beginning, was now expanding around her in a complicated web. She had killed before, many times before, why was this different?

She walked briskly in the moonlight down the sidewalk with no real direction. She had no home, only a simple hotel room she had been sleeping in these past few weeks. But she didn’t want to go back there to just stare at the same peeling strip of wallpaper.

Walking would clear her head; she would weigh her options…who was she kidding? The Black Widow didn’t have any options. She was being a weak child by not having killed the Director already. With the numerous chances she had, so easily could she have ended this charade weeks ago. The Widow knew she had to finish this mission or she would become someone else’s target soon enough, but Natalia let a sliver of doubt enter her head; making her question her own very existence.

This encounter with the Director was never planned, sought after, or actually welcomed if Natalia was being really honest. She didn’t need to sleep with this target to have an opportunity to finish it, but she did anyway. She had made a choice to be with the Director when it wasn’t out of necessity, only the second time in her life she had ever done this.

The Widow’s eyes began to tear up slightly as she slowed her pace entering into a park. She refused to blink and let the salty water spill over. She had to hold them back…these feelings. She didn’t understand them, couldn’t process them; how do you grasp something you can’t explain or wish to have?

* * *

Peggy laid in bed, unable to sleep. She had taken a shower, scrubbed at her skin to try and metaphorically somehow wash away the mistake she had made. She didn't fully regret what she had done and that lack of regret just made her feel guilty.

_Guilt. Ha._

How cliche of her to feel guilty about something. Maybe the assassin has been right.

The night had not at all gone how she thought it would, not at all. She thought she'd be dead by now or at least bleeding out somewhere.

 

The Widow has brought up things from the past that she could so easily push aside when there was work to do, and there was always work to do.

She had read Angie's letter, numerous times, but she couldn't place how she felt about it. She hadn't watched Angie from the sidelines as she rose to fame; she had been way out in a field with binoculars trying to catch a glimpse of the action. Peggy very well knew Angie had become quite the famous actress. Peggy has gone to see everyone of her films when they had come to the cinema, some of them more than once. She had watched the dirty blonde play the bubbly girl next door, the star crossed lover, and the War widow; the last being a heart wrenching performance that even the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. had shed a tear or two for.

There wasn't a day that went by that Peggy didn't think about Angie. What could have been. But having to actually talk about it, out loud, was something she hadn't ever done. The Russian had asked questions a quite alcohol buzzed Peggy has not prepared to answer.

That was why she had kissed the redhead. There were stirred up emotions she wouldn't quite handle and she needed an outlet. The Widow was just an outlet.

* * *

Days past and Peggy slowly started to move past that hot July night. She had written a full report on her encounter with the infamous Black Widow. (She said it was a full report and who would argue with the Director? But in all fairness, there were several details left out.)

The Director sent out a forensic team to her apartment and had them thoroughly sweep the place for any DNA evidence of the Black Widow. (But this was after Peggy had her couch discretely removed and set ablaze near the dump.) The only evidence of the Widow's visit was through two red, wavy hairs that had fallen to the floor in their "struggle". These were bagged and kept in evidence for years after.

* * *

**December 24, 1962**  

It was a typical cold, winter day in NYC. The wind whipped outside of Peggy's toasty apartment as she stood at the window looking out at the flurries slowly spinning down from the cloudy sky.

She turned away from the window once she heard the kettle going off to alert her of the now ready hot water. She pulled her knitted robe around herself tighter and softly padded into the kitchen. Her eyes were focused on the stove to the right as a flash of movement barely registered in her peripheral vision. The Director spun to her left and was greeted with the barrel of a small handgun trained at her head. She raised both arms and squinted into the shadows.

"Hello Margaret."

Peggy's eyebrows shot up in surprise as she recognized the sultry voice and the face of its owner as it took a few steps into the light.

"Widow," was Peggy's only reply.

"Thought it was time for a visit Director, after all I do owe you something."

"Get it over with, please. This back and forth doesn't need to go on anymore."

The redhead grinned then it turned into a grimace as she took another step forward.

Recognition washed over the Director's face, "Ah, you're here because you're hurt."

The Widow put the gun in her belt under her shirt and nodded. She unbuckled her pants and frowned in pain as she slid her left pant leg off. There was a gash down her thigh which didn't look deep but it ranged the length of her hip to her knee. 

Peggy nodded in understanding and went to the cabinet beneath her kitchen sink to bring out a first aid kit. 

"You can do it yourself," the Director stated as she threw the kit down on the kitchen table before the Widow. Natalia smirked as she pulled herself on the table to sit and opened the kit to see what she had to work with.

"Why are you here Natalia?"

The Widow rolled her eyes and motioned to her leg half-heartedly.

It was Peggy's turn to roll her eyes back, "Who did this to you and why?"

The Widow hissed as she poured rubbing alcohol on her still bleeding wound and gritted her teeth as she replied, "You're the intelligence director. You tell me."

"Insufferable bitch," Peggy growled as she made her way to the stove where the kettle was still steaming. She poured the hot water into the mug and placed a tea bag inside. She turned back to Natalia, who was dabbing the wound with gauze. 

"Someone wants you dead, well, actually most people do. I'm going to go with it being your own people since you failed your last mission."

Natalia's head shot up and her eyes met Peggy's own as she glared, "I don't fail."

"Oh yeah? Then why aren't I dead then?"

Natalia clenched her jaw and unconsciously flared her nostrils.

_Why was she even here?_

Peggy brought the tea to her mouth and blew away some of the steam, "You have to actually kill me this time or that cut will look like a Christmas present compared to what, I'm sure, your people will do to you if you continue to be unreliant."

"Mmm," Natalia hummed neutrally.

"Come work for me."

The Widow didn't even look up from her ministrations at the statement. She purely chuckled and then withdrew some tape to hold the bandages to her leg. Once she was finished, she stretched her leg out on the table then hopped down, side closest to the Director, to buckle her bloodied pants back up. "You don't want me on your side, Margaret, because if I was then you wouldn't be the good guys anymore."

Peggy continued to silently sip at her tea and stared emotionless into the emerald eyes locked with her own.

"Besides," the Widow stepped forward again, "I don't think you could remain professional as my boss." Natalia then bit her bottom lip and advanced into the Director's space.

Peggy snorted into her mug and started laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation. She turned her body to sit her half-full mug on the counter then turned back around with her arms crossed over her chest, "Don't flatter yourself".

The Black Widow's jaw clenched so fast the Director almost missed it but she knew this statement had wounded the redhead's pride. "Your people want you dead for not killing me. I'm offering you immunity and a position at S.H.I.E.L.D. in return for information on your employers. We will keep you safe from them and you can be on the right side for a change of pace."

Natalia remained silent for a few seconds as she stared into Peggy's face, waiting for it to break into a smile, to allude to an elaborate joke being played but when no such break came she had to take a few steps back. "You may have power and connections, Director, but no matter how long or high they go, you will never truly be able to protect me. My people are everywhere - even where you'd least expect."

Peggy was expecting a refusal but it didn't hurt to try, "So what then? You just continue running until you're finally caught?"

Natalia smirked, "I don't get caught."

This caused Peggy to roll her eyes but with sincerity said, "The offer stands if you ever wish to take it."

"I'll keep that in mind," the Widow turned around and started walking to the open kitchen door, "Director?"

Peggy had never taken her eyes away from the redhead and raised her eyebrows at the question.

"Next time I will not be so kind."

This caused Peggy to scoff and smirk at the smaller woman, "Right, next time I'll just give you a key so you don't have to scrape up my locks with your lock picking." This made the Russian smile slightly then she made her way to the front door.

Peggy heard the door close and waited a few minutes until she went to it and locked the door behind the Black Widow. She turned around and spotted a bright red envelope sitting on the side table where her house keys also sat. She picked it up and carefully pulled up the flap to reveal a card with a little white, drawn kitten playing with tinsel on the front. When she opened the card inside in pre-printed ink it read, _Have a purr-fect Christmas_ and underneath was a precisely drawn hourglass symbol that mirrored the one on her own chest. She slowly placed her hand between her breasts and rubbed at now healed spot before putting the card back into the envelope.

The Director made her way to her room, tea long forgotten in the kitchen, and kneeled beside her bed. She reached underneath and pulled out a worn down hatbox. She pulled at the braided rope to reveal the contents inside. There were a few open letters addressed to 'Margaret Carter' or 'Peggy Carter', one sealed letter addressed to Angela Martin (lacking postage), a thin gold band with a solitary square-shaped diamond affixed to it, and a small worn-edged black and white photo of a small, blonde man in a basic white t-shirt with dog tags around his slim neck. Peggy then placed the Christmas card into the box, replaced the lid, and slid it back under the bed. She dropped her robe to the ground and crawled into bed. Once under the covers, she curled up on her side and put her hand on the empty space beside her. In the silence she sniffled twice and let her exhaustion take over. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gordost' - Russian for 'pride'


End file.
